Vignette Twelve - Time
by jellybean49
Summary: Time is running out for Jack and he must decide if he's had enough time with Elizabeth.
1. Chapter 1

**Dear Readers, this is the 12th of my vignettes. They go in chronological order but each has a different theme. At the end of Vignette 11, Elizabeth and Jack were still living in Bear Creek and they wondering if she was pregnant after having made a frivolous wish. Enjoy this newest story!**

 **Vignette 12**

 **Chapter 1 - Wisps of Memories**

Jack, tired and worn after days of travel, thought of the papers in his jacket's front pocket which he had received a few days earlier. Typed in single space in black ink were the orders for his next assignment.

His reporting date wasn't scheduled to be for another three months but he knew that time was a strange entity. When you wanted it to move quickly, it seemed to crawl at the pace of a tortoise. But when you wanted time to slow down or stop, it raced by like a locomotive.

Time was like an ornery person who did the opposite of what someone wanted or needed.

Their time in Bear Creek had gone faster than either he or Elizabeth had imagined. Somehow, in just ten months, the mercantile had become their home. The couple had become a family of three. The townspeople had become their close friends.

As sad as they had been to leave Hope Valley, Jack knew that it would be more heartrending for Elizabeth to leave Bear Creek. This was where their son had been born. Where their second child, still small and warm inside Elizabeth's body, had been conceived. Where they had been happy as a family.

He thought back to that first day in Bear Creek. They had ridden into the devastated town, full of people recuperating from Diphtheria. People afraid to touch each other. Afraid to stand too close to one another. Afraid to spread germs. It had been a town without a schoolhouse, but with students ready to learn. Students who found it exciting to have a new enthusiastic teacher who turned an empty mercantile into a home and a school.

Jack thought about his newest assignment, which he hadn't told Elizabeth about yet.

He wondered what she would say when she found the orders. He pictured her curiously unfolding the papers when she emptied out his pockets as she readied his dirty clothes for the laundry. She would most likely look at the words on the paper and mentally imagine a map of Canada, picturing the location that had been planned for their next home.

 _Her eyes will probably fill with tears_ _as she looks at the orders_ , he realized. But there was nothing he could do about it.

We won't go there together. She'll go back to Hamilton to live with her parents, hiding herself away in their brick and stone mansion, with tears in her eyes.

He thought about Elizabeth's eyes. Their blue was solid and robust, without specks of other colors to adulterate the pureness. He loved how she looked at him with those eyes, and he smiled as he thought more about her.

As he thought about her looking at him, Jack realized that he hadn't shaved in several days.

 _She doesn't like it when my beard's that certain length before it becomes soft. Before it's soft and fuzzy, she complains that it prickles her skin and leaves it red._

A memory popped into Jack's mind, as if he were reliving the moment right there. It was so vivid that he could remember every word.

" _I missed you so much."_

" _Let me shave and bathe and then I'll show you how much I've missed you."_

" _You've been gone almost a week. I can't wait any longer", she had said as she pushed his jacket down his shoulders and then pulled it off his arms._

" _Elizabeth, I haven't shaved in days."_

" _I think it's sexy."_

 _Jack had chuckled as he moved his arms down and began taking off his boots. "You say that now but in the morning, you'll be complaining that your face is red and raw. Not to mention some other parts of your body."_

" _Then I'm shaving you", she replied as she walked into the bathroom. She returned a moment later with a towel, his shaving cream, and his razor._

 _Jack stayed still in a simple wooden kitchen chair and smiled as Elizabeth straddled him. When she scrunched up her skirt to get comfortable, the pale skin of her thighs was visible as Jack glanced downwards._

 _With each slow caress of her hand as it spread cream on his face, he continued to smile._

 _She knew what she was doing to him. How her warm body on his lap was making him feel, yet she concentrated on carefully running the razor slowly and steadily down his face. Wiping the stubble and cream on her towel before returning the blade to his skin._

 _Elizabeth's bare feminine thighs were warm as she had kept them pressed tightly against Jack's own muscled legs. He had taken his right hand and began slowly caressing her skin. Moving his palm farther up her skirt. Back and forth along her upper leg, enjoying touching her soft flesh. Amazed as always at how it was so perfectly smooth._

 _When Elizabeth had scraped the last unwanted whiskers from Jack's handsome face, she began replacing them with her warm kisses._

" _Now you can put your face wherever you want", she had said breathlessly._

 _Without another word, Jack had held her tightly around her waist as he stood up. She wrapped her legs around his strong torso as he had carried her into the other room. His hands fumbled to pull down her panties as she lifted her hips to him. Their mouths refusing to leave each other's as they fell onto the bed, and she finally felt his weight on her._

Jack thought what it would be like when he arrived home this time and Elizabeth took out a razor to shave his face, revealing the soft skin she loved to touch. Would she think about the time that he had just remembered?

His face fell as he imagined how she would react when she saw his face, full of days of dirty beard growth.

The crying in the distance interrupted Jack's thoughts, shifting them. They moved from Elizabeth to the small boy.

The sounds of crying.

Like a small boy ready to be changed.

Jack loved being a father. Next to Elizabeth, his son Jack Thatcher Thornton was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Despite the bitter coldness of winter when he had been born, the mercantile had been kept cozy with log after log in the stove. Elizabeth had lain in bed covered with a thick feather bed as Jack had spent his time snuggling with her, keeping the house warm, and checked on his son every five minutes.

" _He's so small and perfect. I'm almost afraid to hold him again."_

 _Elizabeth had grinned as she looked at her husband staring down into the bassinet at his day-old baby._

" _You're a big strong Mountie. Face your fears, pick him up, and change his diaper."_

Jack remembered exactly how it had been when he had picked up his son and held him to his chest, breathing in the smell of his hair and the dribbled milk on his small baby chin.

" _I hope I'm a good father", he had said as he gently stroked his boy's delicate back before laying him down and lifting up the child's nightdress._

" _You'll be perfect."_

" _How do you know?"_

 _Elizabeth had smiled confidently. "Because you're my husband."_

" _What does that have to do with it?"_

" _I chose wisely. You didn't think I would let just anyone be the father of my babies", she teased._

" _God, I love him so much. I can't imagine him ever being trouble. He's so sweet and tiny. . . ._

 _. . . I wonder if my father felt like this when he held me", Jack had added wistfully._

" _I'm sure he did."_

" _I wish he could be here to see his grandson. To see me as a Mountie. As a husband and a father."_

" _I wish he hadn't died when I was young" Jack had said barely above a whisper. "I never want to do that to our son."_

The fox crying in the distance wandered away, but not before he cried one more time, as if saying one last goodbye to Jack.

Jack didn't care about the fox. He wanted to hold his son again. He wanted to cuddle with a pregnant Elizabeth in a soft clean bed with their son between them. He wanted them with him.

He imagined them lying next to him now.

As Jack lay dying in the grassy field, he pretended that the sun warming his bleeding body was them snuggled against him.

Jack wished that he had more time before he died. Time to see them once more.

But he was dying. And his body, when it was found, would be returned to Elizabeth.

Through her tears, she would shave his face, wash his clothes after emptying the pockets, and dress him in his uniform before kissing him goodbye for the last time. Jack imagined the feeling of her salty tears as they would fall on his motionless face. He hated when she cried.

It tore at his heart.

Jack remembered the first time he had seen her eyes filled with tears. She had sniffled her nose and wiped her face, with its swollen eyelids and flushed coloring from her sobbing. She had been sitting in the Saloon, trying to be practical and brave.

 _I'm not going to do it. I am not leaving coal valley._

 _Wait, but... Patrick's already here. They're not going to station two Mounties in this sleepy little town._

 _But I am going to put in an official appeal to stay._

 _But that could mean..._

 _I know. Elizabeth, I know what the risks are with my superiors, And I'm willing to take them... For you. What?_

 _Jack... I can't... I can't let you do that._

 _No. See, this is what I want._

 _I can't be who keeps you from following your dreams. I can't. You'd only end up resenting me._

 _Elizabeth, that is not true._

 _You may not think so now, But you will. You will. The same way that I could never have forgiven my parents if they'd kept me from coming out west in pursuit of my dreams. Jack... I am so sorry. You have to do this. You have to go. I know it in my heart. And so do you._

Her tears had been because of him and he had carried the guilt with him for days as he traveled through the countryside those many years ago.

Now she would have to let him go again. But this time, he wouldn't return to her.

Or to his son. Jack knew that his son would never even remember him.

That was the part that hurt the most. That his son would never remember him. He wouldn't remember how Jack had carried him with his tiny head on Jack's strong shoulder. Walking gently back and forth across the wooden floor planks when the tiny boy was colicky. Or how Jack had lifted him high in the air in the sunshine pouring in the windowpanes and grinned broadly at the little boy's first smile.

But maybe it was for the best that his son wouldn't remember those times. His little boy wouldn't miss him because he simply wouldn't remember him.

And what about his other child? The little baby that hadn't been born yet was growing larger in Elizabeth's womb even as Jack was dying. The child would never be held in Jack's arms. He or she would never know the feeling of having a father's chest moving up and down in slow respiration as Jack lay on the couch with the child held securely and lovingly on his body.

Jack imagined that Elizabeth would lie in bed alone in the dark, crying herself to sleep night after night. He wanted to be there for her. To tell her that it was going to be okay. But that made no sense. She wouldn't be crying if he could be there.

Jack, lying on the blood-soaked ground, suddenly worried that Elizabeth's feet would be cold at night without him there. That had always been his job. To warm her feet in bed in the winter. She loved to sleep barefoot even in the freezing temperatures. It made no sense but she insisted on taking off her socks and then, when her feet were shivering, she would smoosh them under Jack's legs to get warm. The coldness of her feet always startled him and he would half-heartedly protest.

" _Elizabeth, they're freezing!"_

" _That's why I need you",_ she would say innocently.

They both knew that he loved that she did it. That she loved to have him warm her, and that he loved to be needed.

" _You could just keep your socks on, you know."_

" _Uh uh. I want my handsome husband's warmth. It's much better than a pair of socks."_

It was a little thing, but it bothered Jack now; that Elizabeth's feet would be cold at night.

As Jack closed his eyes against the sunlight, he thought how ironic it was. He had a wonderful wife and son. Another baby on the way. A job he usually loved. Life would be perfect . . . If only he wasn't dying.

His eyes filled with tears and his throat tightened in anguish. He gave a strangled cry of despair as he thought about how much he loved his family and how desperately he wanted them to hold him as he died.

Up next: Chapter 2


	2. Chapter 2 - A Father's Visit

Dear Readers, first of all, I apologize! Several readers have commented that they are worried that Jack will die. I would never do that! As many of you know, my stories always have happy endings. In almost every chapter of 'Reversal of Fortune', it ends with humor and love. Even "bad" Jack in 'Devious Scheme' turned out to be a sweet sap with a tortured past who fell in love with Elizabeth despite his best intentions. And my Vignettes, even with Jack being blinded in #5 and Elizabeth almost dying in #8, always end happily. . So, please, sit back, relax, and enjoy some emotions as you journey with Jack as he tries to make his way back to his family.

 **Chapter 2 - A Father's Visit**

After thirty minutes of lying in the grass, Jack's leg wound was still stinging. He thought he would have become immune to the pain, but he hadn't. It was the only wound that he was willing to look at. The sight of the large gash in his stomach had made him gag. And his shoulder was too painful to move to allow him to get a better view.

So he concentrated on his leg. If he survived, he would have a scar to add to the other two he already had there. There was the scar that he had told Elizabeth about when they had first become friends and she was learning to sew. And then there was the very small faint scar on his leg. The scar that he still blamed Tom for causing.

* * *

" _Bet you can't do this!"_

" _Can too!"_

" _No you can't. You're the smart responsible brother. I'm the wild daredevil!" a six-year old Tom exclaimed proudly as he teetered on the top rail of the spilt rail fence._

" _I can too. I've got a great sense of balance!" Jack bragged to his younger brother as he grabbed hold of the fence and hoisted himself up onto the top rail, straddling it and then placing the soles of his feet on the narrow piece of wood._

 _He took a deep breath, held out his arms to his sides, and gingerly began walking along the fence, his feet high above the ground. At eight year's old, Jack refused to let his little brother surpass him in anything._

" _You're too cautious. You need to move faster", Tom said scornfully._

" _Shut up. You're trying to distract me so I'll fall."_

* * *

 _Tom skipped off to play some more as Jack moved the back of his hand along his runny nose, wiping away the snot. He sniffled as his father finished dapping iodine on the four-inch gash in his young leg._

" _I got out all the wood splinters and you'll have a scar, but I don't think you'll need stitches."_

" _I'm sorry I cried, Pa."_

 _Thomas Thornton placed a fresh piece of gauze around the wound and looked up at his forlorn son before speaking._

" _Son, there's no shame in crying. You fell and got hurt. People have emotions and there's no reason boys can't cry if they're hurt."_

" _You're a Mountie. You never cry", Jack objected._

" _Oh, I've cried plenty. Just ask your ma."_

" _When have you ever cried?"_

 _Jack's father chuckled. "Every time I have to eat your ma's cooking."_

 _Jack couldn't help but giggle at his father's words even as a part of him wondered if his father had ever really cried._

" _Pa –"_

 _The older Thornton began wrapping a thin cloth bandage around Jack's leg as he waited for Jack to finish his sentence. When Jack seemed hesitant, his father paused and looked at him._

" _What is it son?"_

" _Do you –"_

" _Do I what? Go ahead son. You can ask me anything."_

 _Jack's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as he looked downcast. "Do you love Tom better than me?"_

 _His father couldn't have been more surprised by the question; he sat back on his haunches and looked at his oldest son's tear-stained face._

" _Why in the world would you ask that?"_

" _Do you?"_

" _Of course not! I love you both equally! What's this about?"_

 _Jack's words, held back for so long, came out in a tumble now that he had been brave enough to ask despite the tears which began running down his face again._

" _Because I was born first but you didn't name me after you. And then Tom was born, and you named him after you. Cuz you loved him more."_

 _His father reached his arms around Jack and pulled him down to him, hugging him close and holding his boyish head to his strong chest. His own eyes became watery as he thought about how brave Jack was to have asked._

 _And how miserable a father he must be for Jack to even have to ask._

" _Son, I didn't name you after me because I knew right from the moment that I first saw you that you were better than me. You were less than a day old but I knew you were already stronger than me."_

" _Stronger than you?" Jack's confusion caused him to momentarily stop sobbing. "How could I be stronger than you if I was just a baby?"_

" _Not physical strength. Inner strength. I knew it cuz when I looked at you, I saw me, but I also saw a lot of your ma. It was like you were the_ _strongest parts of both of us_ _. You deserved your own name. I knew one day that you'd make me proud. That you would be a better man than me."_

" _You're a great man, Pa!"_

" _I try. . . . But something about the way I held you when you were born . . . well, I just knew that you'd go farther than me. Be a better man."_

 _Jack sniffled and wiped his wet nose and eyes on his dad's shirt._

" _What about Tom?"_

 _His father chuckled. "Tom's a lot like me. I'm afraid you may have to keep him in line sometimes. He can be a handful."_

" _So you don't love him best?, Jack asked timidly one more time, feeling the need to be reassured._

" _No, son. I could never love him best. You are my first born and I have loved you since the day I first saw you. Even before then."_

 _Jack lifted his eyes and looked at his father's face when he heard the cracking in the man's voice._

" _Pa, you're crying!" he said in surprise. "And ma's not even cooking dinner!"_

* * *

The memory of his ma's cooking made Jack think of Elizabeth. Her cooking brought a smile to his face despite the pain in his thigh. And his shoulder. And his torso. She had gotten much better since they had first met, but he still remembered some of her disastrous meals. He thought he would barely survive the first months of marriage.

" _Just a quick sandwich would be great, Abigail. I can eat it right here" Jack remarked as he had walked into the Café's kitchen at 4:30._

" _Isn't Elizabeth making dinner tonight?"_

" _Yeah. I just need to eat first,"_

" _In case you can't stomach her food?" Abigail had asked with a knowing smile and raised eyebrows._

 _Jack chuckled. "Something like that. And please don't tell her. She's getting better, but I've probably lost ten pounds between her burnt meatloaves and her under-cooked chicken."_

" _You're a_ _brave man, Jack_ _. What you do for love is amazing", Abigail replied with a grin as she took some slices of ham and cheese out of the icebox._

* * *

The sun had gone behind the clouds and the sky was turning a dark grey as a wounded Jack closed his eyes again and felt himself drifting off in the field. He barely noticed the light rain when it began to fall in the early afternoon. The small droplets landing on his unmoving face.

In his mind, he was transported back to the first time he and Elizabeth had declared their love for each other. He remembered that she had been crying as she sat on the mine's cold ground with a blanket wrapped around her.

 _It scares me to think that, one day, you might not come home. That what happened to your father could happen to you. I need to be able to sleep at night, knowing you're safe._

 _I will be safe._

 _You can't guarantee that._

 _No one can. But I'm good at what I do._ _And I'm not afraid to face my fears._

Elizabeth didn't say anything. She just kept crying and so Jack begged her to stop. But she still wouldn't stop crying.

 _Stop crying, Elizabeth_ , he pleaded in his foggy mind.

 _Stop crying!_

Jack could feel her tears falling faster and heavier as they hit his face. Stinging his cheeks. Soaking his hair. Causing his clothes, already bloodied, to cling to him even more.

 _Stop crying, Elizabeth!_

Jack jerked his eyes open and was surprised that Elizabeth wasn't standing above him. He looked around and realized he was lying in a rainstorm.

Slowly he moved his uninjured arm until his fingers touched his hat on the ground next to him. He turned it over so that the rainwater would collect in the waterproof felt.

While the rain landed with a plunking sound in the cowboy hat, Jack opened his mouth to catch more drops, wetting his parched mouth.

He wondered if his father had sent him the memories to keep him company while he died alone. Memories of his father's love. His wife's love. The love of a man for his son. They would keep his heart warm despite the cold rain and the warm blood dripping out of his body.

"Thank you, Pa", he whispered.

 _Craaaccckkk_

The crack of lighting ripped through the air, causing a startled Jack's body to react.

The sound reminded his tired mind of the sound of a baton hitting a table. One of the Academy instructors used to arrogantly walk around the classroom, carrying a heavy baton as if it were a omnipotent weapon. When a nervous cadet answered incorrectly or a tired one started to doze off after hours of physical demands and little sleep, the Sergeant would smack the thick wooden stick on the nearest desk, jolting everyone to attention.

When the lightning cracked again, Jack realized in an instant that he had been wrong.

His father hadn't sent him the memories to comfort him in death.

If his father was sending him a message, and for some reason, Jack believed he was, it was for just the opposite reason.

It was now remarkably clear to Jack what his father wanted.

Jack's father wanted him to get his ass of the ground and make his way home to Elizabeth and his infant son.

 _But, Pa –_

 _No buts, son. What have I taught you?_

 _You taught me that there's no shame in crying. . . ._

 _. . .I'm stronger than you were .. . ._

 _I'm a brave man. And will do anything for love._

 _. . . I'm good at what I do. . . .I'm not afraid to face my fears._

 _I've got a family waiting for me._

Jack thought about his predicament. He was bleeding from three wounds. The most serious was his stomach which was sliced open more than the others. He was alone in a field. No one knew he was injured. His horse had run off after bucking off his saddle bag.

Jack snorted in laughter as he thought about what was in his saddle bag for his son. The little boy whom he loved to call by his nickname, Thatch.

"Thatch, you are about to save your father's life", he said with determination as he began to crawl to his leather bag which lay on the ground ten feet away. He tensed in pain as he moved, using his uninjured arm to help drag him, leaving a bloodied trail in his wake.

"I'm coming home to you. Somehow. Someway. I'm coming home to you and your ma."

Up next: Chapter 3


	3. Chapter 3 - The Angel's Shivering

**Chapter 3 – The Angel's Shivering**

"Ouch."

Elizabeth stopped walking across the front room's wooden floor as she reached out and gently extricated her long brown hair from her son's tiny fist.

"You are a strong one, little man. Just like your daddy. But no pulling mommy's hair, please."

She kissed the little boy on the forehead before bending down and placing him on his back on the soft piece of carpet which was surrounded on all four sides by three-feet high vertical wooden bars.

"I think maybe your father was right about this contraption after all."

She smiled as she thought about when Jack had first brought it into the mercantile house and set it down in front of the large plate glass window. The sun had shone through the glass warming the area with its yellow beams.

" _Jack! It looks like a miniature jail cell! I am not putting my son in that!"_

" _First of all, he'll like it. He's spent enough time with me at the jail that he's accustomed to bars."_

" _He's three months old! I don't want him accustomed to cell bars!"_

 _Jack snickered as he took his son from Elizabeth's arms and set him down in the enclosure._

" _Second of all, when I'm away, you'll need to be able to put him down and not worry about him. Especially when he starts crawling."_

" _I can't believe you made our son his own personal jail cell", Elizabeth had replied in surprised disgust._

" _It's called a playpen. I saw an advertisement for one in your Sears Catalog and figured it was easy enough to make. You'll see that I'm right."_

Now, Elizabeth looked at her son and grinned. "It appears that your daddy knows us pretty well. Now, you stay in your little cell while I make some soup."

* * *

Elizabeth, with her sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to above her elbows, grabbed the raw chicken and smacked it down on the cutting board as she continued talking over her shoulder to her son in the other room.

"Your daddy will be home in two or three days. If I make the chicken soup now, he can have it whenever he gets here. I'll just have to warm it up. See, isn't that smart of me? You have a very smart mommy."

Elizabeth arranged the chicken with the breast side up and then pulled one leg away from its body. Stretching the wing as far as it would go. Holding the heavy cleaver above the joint, she took a deep breath before slamming it down into the fowl.

The rectangular-bladed hatchet hit the flesh and bone, releasing the leg from the rest of the body, and causing Elizabeth to jump back in confusion. She hastily dropped the cleaver onto the counter and stared at the chicken carcass.

Elizabeth shook her head to clear her mind and picked up another leg of the chicken, pulling it away from the breast.

She shook her perplexed head again; chiding herself for being silly.

Elizabeth slammed down the cleaver again, brutally detaching the limb.

This time, she reacted more in fear than just simple confusion.

 _What the heck is going on?!_ _It's just a simple chicken. I've chopped up chickens before_ , she thought in bewilderment.

She took a deep breath and looked at the knife and the chicken on the counter. Grabbing a third leg, she pulled it aside and quickly smashed the blade down.

She jumped back and began trembling.

A frightened Elizabeth looked at the cleaver in her hand and quickly dropped it. Staring it as if it were a snake that would reach out and bite her. She felt her heart begin to race. The anxiety coming over her.

The knife made a thud as it hit the counter and then bounced off and landed on the floor.

Elizabeth looked at a single drop of chicken blood as it lay splattered on the counter next to the dead bird.

Her body shivered and she ran her hands along her arms to warm herself.

Elizabeth, without having a logical reason, hurriedly picked up the chicken pieces and the cleaver, which now scared her. Without hesitation, she carried them out the back door and threw them in the trashcan in the alley behind the house. For some unknown reason, she never wanted to see the cleaver again.

Still shivering, she closed the door, locking it tightly, and hurried back into the front room.

She gazed down at Little Jack, or Thatch as Jack loved to call him, as he waved his fists back and forth, moving his lightweight blanket in innocent curiosity at the realization that he had an incredible ability to hold things.

"Everything's alright, son. Mommy just got an odd feeling. That's all. But everything's alright."

Thatch ignored her as he continued to be mesmerized by the cloth in his hands, and Elizabeth knew that she was trying to reassure herself rather than the naive infant.

As she went back into the kitchen to wash her hands, she couldn't shake the feeling which she had gotten when the large kitchen knife had forcefully hit the body. Slicing it apart.

The faucet water ran over her hands as she rubbed the bar of soap between them.

She lingered at the sink, letting the water and suds swirl done the drain. Keeping her hands under the stream longer than necessary. Her mind trying to process what she was feeling. Why she was scared.

 _Jack, why does the cleaver make me think of you in danger? What in the world is going on?_

* * *

"How did the chicken soup turn out? That was a good chicken you had. A nice size", Lucy Madison noted as they sat at her wooden kitchen table the next day.

Elizabeth didn't answer right away but paused for a moment, wondering how stupid she would sound as she voiced her concerns to her best friend in Bear Creek.

"Have you ever gotten a weird feeling for no reason when you're just going about your day?"

"What do you mean?" the pretty blond woman asked casually as she refilled their tea cups. "You mean like a Charlie horse in your leg?"

Elizabeth shook her head in disgusted annoyance. "No, not like a Charlie horse. . . More like a shivering that goes down your spine. Even when you're not cold."

Lucy put aside the tea kettle and reached for a plate of cookies. "You mean an Angel's shivering", she said knowingly.

"Angel's shivering?"

Lucy shrugged. "Angel's shivering. Angel's wings. Ghost's tingling. You know, when you get a tingling because an angel's wings are touching you. It means that an angel is checking in on you to see if you're doing okay because something tragic has happened to someone you love. Her wings have touched you as she flits around you. That's what Mary Mary always called it."

Elizabeth furrowed her brow. "Who's Mary Mary? And why is her name said twice?"

Lucy wiped the crumbs from her blouse and swallowed a bite of the sugar cookie before replying.

"She's my best friend back home. Her two grandmothers were both named Mary and each one insisted that she be named after them."

"But they had the same name! She could have just been called Mary", Elizabeth protested.

"How could she just be called Mary if she had two grandmothers? Her parents wanted her named after both of them. If they had just named her after one of them, the other one would have been insulted and hurt"

"But they had the same name!"

"But there were two of them!" Lucy explained again. "One plus one is two. You know, Elizabeth, sometimes I wonder about you. You're the teacher. You're the one that is supposed to be good at simple math."

Elizabeth shook her head in exasperation as Lucy wiped a napkin across her mouth, hiding her smile.

"So, tell me more", Elizabeth grumbled.

"If you had an Angel's shivering, something is happening to someone you love. Probably around the same time that you felt it, or just shortly beforehand. It's not always a death or something totally horrible, but it is something worrisome."

"Oh, shut up", Elizabeth said quietly.

"You asked me!"

Elizabeth remained quiet as she looked down at her tea cup and then shifted her gaze to the carpet where Lucy and Elizabeth's baby boys were lying and waving their limbs about.

"What were you doing when it happened?"

"Using a cleaver on the chicken", Elizabeth responded worriedly.

Lucy involuntarily cringed. "Oh, dear."

"Did you have a dream afterwards?" she gently added.

"Not that I remember. Why?"

"Mary Mary says you'll have a dream about the person. That's how you'll know who the shivering was about. Even if the person is far away, you'll know. It . . . It -"

"It what?"

"If you had the shiver when you were using a cleaver . . . the . . thing . . . the thing that may have happened . . well, it may have had something to do with a cleaver or knife or something."

When Elizabeth looked stricken, Lucy quickly finished her sentence in a more upbeat tone.

"Or maybe it just has something to do with a chicken!"

"This is silly. I am not listening to something a stupid woman with a duplicate double name says!" Elizabeth declared.

Lucy set down her own teacup and looked at Elizabeth with concern.

"Elizabeth, I've known Mary Mary my whole life. She's never wrong."

* * *

It had taken more than five minutes for Jack to crawl on the grass to his bag ten feet away.

The rain continued to pour down on him, soaking him until his body, pale due to a loss of blood, was shivering. He gratefully thanked the Force for routinely issuing him a bag made of tanned leather which kept its contents dry.

He wrapped the bag's thinnest portion around his arm and pulled it along with him as he continued to crawl, dragging his injured leg behind him, until he came to the protection of a pine tree which stood out in the otherwise grassy field.

When he leaned up against the spruce's large trunk, he scowled in irritation as he saw that his hat, filling with water, was now more than 20 feet away.

 _Idiot!_ he chided himself. _Now I'll have to go back to get it! . . . .Forget it. I'll drink later._

Looking down at his leg, he sighed when he saw the pine needles now sticking to the bloody gash.

It was as if nothing was going his way.

Gingerly, he used his fingers to pluck out the conifer's needles, wincing as he touched his sliced-open flesh.

As he removed the last needle and reached into his bag, Jack glanced over at the dead body which lay thirty feet away to his left. It had taken two bullets to kill the man.

That meant he had five rounds left.

 _Please don't make me have to use them_ , he thought tiredly. _I just want to go home to my family._

 _I just want to go home and hold my family._

 **Up next: Chapter 4**


	4. Chapter 4 - The Hermit and the Trees

**Chapter 4 – The Hermit and Trees**

The body of the middle-aged man lay in the wet grass across from Jack.

Jack hadn't gotten close enough to actually check the man's pulse, but he was pretty confident that the man was dead. The first bullet, which had entered his chest directly in the area of his heart, would most likely have been enough. But Jack, his adrenaline at an all-time high, had almost immediately fired a second round, hitting the man in the head as he had fallen to the ground.

Jack didn't see any need to check if the man was still breathing. If anything was going to check on the man, it would most likely be vultures coming to feast.

The thought turned Jack's stomach.

Everything about the other man had bothered Jack since he had seen him for the first time yesterday afternoon.

As Jack slumped against the tree, he thought about how terribly wrong things had gone in the last 18 hours.

* * *

" _Get off my land!", the man had screamed angrily in the late afternoon sun as he stood arguing with Jack the previous day._

" _I told you, this isn't your land. You need to stop squatting here. You cannot stay and terrorize the ranchers in the adjoining land."_

" _It's my land and no damn Mountie is going to tell me otherwise!"_

" _Sir, this is the last warning you are going to get. This is government land. I want you to pack up your belongings and clear out of here. I'll let you stay the night but you need to leave at first light."_

" _Or what?!", the man scoffed._

" _I will arrest you", Jack responded coldly. He had had enough of this man. For forty-five minutes, he had listened to the man's anti-government rants._

" _It's my cabin!"_

" _It's a shack you built on government land with full knowledge that you did not have permission. Now clear out."_

 _. . . ._

 _After leaving the man and making camp, Jack had slept fitfully. The cantankerous hermit wasn't just irritating; he was full of anger and obsessed with staying in the illegally built shack._

 _The shack was barely fit for human occupation; it was nothing but a worn-down dwelling made from salvaged planks and logs of old hunting cabins._

 _Jack would possibly have had some sympathy for the now homeless man if the man hadn't been terrorizing his neighbors for months. Stealing from their crops, hunting on their lands, sending stray bullets too close to homes. The women were frightened and angry. Not only did he wander into their gardens and chicken coops to steal food and eggs, but he had started stealing clothes from their wash lines. The ranchers and farmers were irate that they couldn't leave their families unattended without worry._

 _The sooner the man left, the better Jack would feel._

 _. . ._

 _Hours later, Jack had taken a final sip of morning coffee and then doused his campfire. He took his time packing up his belongings to give the tramp enough time to vacant the shack. With any luck, the man had heeded Jack's warning and already left the area._

 _Crossing the field after refilling his canteen in the creek, Jack had frowned when he saw the man approach him. The fact that the man wasn't carrying a bag of belongings was enough of an indication that he was not going to make this easy on Jack._

" _Mr. Jones, you need to get out of here. I don't want to have to arrest you", Jack had called out._

 _The man hadn't responded but instead walked towards Jack's horse. Without a warning, he raised the ax which he had been shielding close to his side and slammed it into the horse's flank._

 _The effect was immediate. The horse bucked in pain as it let out a loud cry of surprise and then bolted across the field._

" _What the hell are you doing?" Jack screamed as he ran towards his campsite and his weapon which he had carelessly left on his sleeping bag._

 _The man, seeing where Jack was headed, moved like a rabid dog without fear._

 _As Jack tried to get to his pistol, the other man, with eagerness in his eyes, began swinging as he rushed forward._

 _Jack ducked and the sharp metal blade of the ax glanced against his shoulder._

 _The pain was shocking._

 _Before Jack could react with more than a startled jerk, the man raised the blade again and slammed it into Jack's thigh._

 _Blood splayed from Jack's body, landing in the other man's grizzled beard and on his weathered face. He took his filthy hand and wiped Jack's blood off his deeply lined cheeks before raising the ax again._

 _Jack had stumbled towards his pistol. It was only 20 feet away but he didn't have time. He fell to his knees as the blade sunk into him for the third time. It stopped two inches into Jack's torso, evidence that the older man was getting tired._

 _Fighting against the pain and fear, Jack pulled his own knife from his boot and lunged upwards at the hobo. His blade, seeming so small against the man's ax, sliced across the man's stomach, momentarily surprising him. It was enough of a surprise to allow Jack to scramble away and reach his gun._

" _I'll kill you, you damn Mountie!" the man had screamed in anger. "I'll kill you!"_

 _The blood pumping through Jack's veins and the pounding of his own heart seemed to drown out the hermit's yelling._

 _With one hand pressed to his stomach to stop the gushing of blood, Jack used his other hand to aim his pistol and fire._

 _Time had been moving too fast. Just two minutes earlier, Jack had been alone in the peaceful field. Now he was bleeding and struggling to remain in control. The second bullet left his weapon before he even thought about it._

 _Jack had watched as the bullet tore into the man. A red stain had already spread on the man's filthy shirt, and he crumpled to the ground. His dying hand finally releasing the bloodied ax._

* * *

Jack now turned his eyes away from the body and looked at his own wounds.

The man was dead. And Jack wasn't the least bit sorry.

* * *

"How did you sleep last night?" Lucy asked as she caught up to Elizabeth, who was walking down the street at the end of the school day.

"Okay." Elizabeth answered simply as she shifted baby Jack in her arms.

"Well? Did you have a dream?"

"We are not talking about that. I was just being stupid. I should never have mentioned anything to you."

Lucy, her own baby in her arms, quickened her pace to keep up with Elizabeth. "That means you did. And I'm guessing it was about Jack."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because if it was about your family in Hamilton, you could have just sent them a telegram and found out that they were okay. And you wouldn't be in such a pensive mood. With Jack out in the wilderness, I know it's hard for you to contact him."

"I dreamed about Jack because he's my husband and I love him. Also, because you put the thought into my head with your freaky ideas! Who else would I worry about?! Of course I ended up dreaming about him!"

Elizabeth opened the front door and set the baby down in his bassinet, while Lucy followed her inside and closed the door behind her.

"Sit down."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to tell you what Mary Mary always said to do."

Elizabeth took a seat on the couch, and tried to hide her anxiety but she kept thinking about how she had awoken up in the middle of the night dreaming of Jack.

"Mary Mary had two rules. First, if you have a shivering and don't know if the person is okay, you are supposed to think of everything you can do to help. And then do it."

"Do? I can't do anything?! He's a Mountie on duty somewhere in the wilderness! "

"Calm down. Let's think about what we _can_ do."

The two women sat on the couch for a moment before Elizabeth spoke.

"I can send telegrams to the towns that he would have been passing by. Asking them if they've seen him and if they can be on the look-out for him", Elizabeth offered. "Maybe telling them to see if they can find his campsite."

"Excellent! I'll stay and watch the babies while you go do that now."

Elizabeth hurriedly grabbed her coin purse from the side table, and was almost out the door when she stopped and looked at Lucy.

"What was the second rule? That Mary Mary always says to do?"

Lucy reached into her pocket and pulled out a thin rectangular bar wrapped in brown and silver paper. A five-cent price was noted on the wrapper. She held it up and gave Elizabeth a weak smile and a shrug.

"Eat a bar of chocolate while you wait for word."

* * *

Jack tentatively moved his hand from his stomach and dared to look down, feeling relief when he didn't see his intestines.

He then lifted the flap of his saddlebag. His fingers, which were wet from his own blood, left smear marks on the leather.

Everything about Jack was wet. The rain soaking his hair and clothes. His sweat. His blood. His tears.

Everything had all mingled together and he could no longer discern his blood from the saltiness of his sweat and tears from the fresh rain which fell from the sky.

His official-issued small first aid kit with a one-inch wide rolled bandage would never be able keep him from bleeding out. It was never intended to save a Mountie with three ax wounds caused by a lunatic mountain man.

It was more than obvious to Jack that no regular Mountie supply bag could save him from his predicament.

The loss of blood was already making Jack dizzy and he was worried that he would pass out before he had time to bandage himself.

He grimaced against his pain as he reached into his bag and pulled out the parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.

 _Thatch, my boy, your little bum is going to save me._

Jack's knife lay lost in the grass where it had fallen when he had stumbled to get to his pistol, so he now used his teeth to tear the twine. Fumbling with the package, he ripped away the paper.

The ten white cloth diapers, made of soft cotton, were folded in neat squares and stacked together.

Jack let out a sigh of gratitude as he remembered Elizabeth's final words to him when he was leaving home.

" _Jack, when you go to other towns, will you see if their mercantiles have any diapers? I can't keep washing these same ten over and over again every day and hoping they dry in time."_

" _Doesn't MacIntre's have any more?"_

" _They're sold out. Between Lucy's baby, the Cranston kids, and baby Jack, we bought them out. Mr. MacIntre's not expecting a shipping anytime soon. And we could use some more. I can barely keep up with the baby."_

" _You do realize that I am going away on business, don't you? I'm a Mountie; not an errand boy. A Mountie. Strong. Brave. Upholding the law. Serving and protecting."_

" _Well, you can serve me and protect our clothes from your son's body fluids by buying us some more diapers."_

" _Yes, dear", he replied with a grin._

 _Elizabeth gave him a quick kiss him on the cheek, and then held up their son towards him._

 _Jack had tenderly placed his lips on their infant's tiny head._

" _I'll be home soon."_

" _Promise?"_

" _I promise", he had assured them._

 _"Safely", she reminded him._

" _Safely. And with diapers", he had snickered._

* * *

After dousing his wounds in iodine, Jack wadded up a diaper and shoved it tightly into his stomach's bloody gash before placing another one on top of it. Using the thin twine, he tied the cotton fabric in place as best as he could.

When his stomach was finished being covered and the bleeding had slowed considerably, he took care of his thigh, and then his shoulder. It was messy, but it would have to do.

He closed his eyes and leaned his exhausted head back against the tree trunk.

 _God, I just want to get home._

The sharp smell of the pine tree transported his weary mind to another place.

* * *

" _You know, Jack, I am becoming quite the good Mountie Wife", Elizabeth had exclaimed proudly as she had dropped the last of the small logs on top of the pile by the stove before turning to Jack who was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper._

" _We've only been married two months. You think you've got it all figured out already?" he smirked._

" _I can pump water, keep the stove going, skin a rabbit for dinner, pitch a tent. What else could there possibly be?"_

" _There's still making love outside", Jack replied as he casually turned a page of the newspaper._

" _Well, no one said I had to do everything in the first few months", Elizabeth had replied dismissively as she washed her hands in the sink._

 _She kept her back turned so Jack couldn't see her smile._

" _Is that how you really feel? Because I was thinking about setting down this newspaper, picking you up right now because you happen to look incredibly sexy, carrying you outside, and making passionate love to you under the white pine trees."_

" _The white pines? Which ones are those?" she asked nonchalantly over her shoulder as she dried her hands on the dishtowel._

" _The tall ones that drop their inner needles."_

 _"Not the ones that look like sturdy Christmas trees?"_

 _"No, those are firs", Jack had informed her matter-of-factly as he set down the paper, stood up, and strode across the room towards her._

 _"Frazier or Douglas?"_

 _"Both are firs. They have different cones."_

" _Are white pine_ s t _he ones with the long soft needles?" She kept her voice calm and casual as she toyed with him._

" _Yep, those are them", he replied as he hoisted her over his shoulder._

* * *

 _Thirty minutes later, Jack's tongue had lazily moved down Elizabeth's spine as she lay naked under a tall white pine tree._

 _She had murmured in pleasure as he took the palms of his hands and ran them along her smooth skin, warming it against the cool outside air. His fingers moved from her legs to her torso, to her neck, making circles with his thumbs and placing her in a sleepy trance now that her energy had been spent._

" _I have to admit, you are very very good at being a Mountie wife."_

 _Elizabeth, her eyes closed and her head turned to the side in a bed of soft pine needles, smiled before replying._

" _We've been married two months and I have yet to see this Married Mountie and Wife Guide Book that you've often referred to."_

" _Well, it's not exactly a written book. More of mental list of things."_

" _Ahh, that might be why it seems to be filled with things you like."_

" _What? You didn't like making love under a white pine?!"_

" _Oh, I did. I did very much. But—"_

" _But what?" Jack asked as he had lain down next to her and began placing kisses on her neck and down to her breasts._

" _It just seems to me . . .with you being a Mountie and all . . . and with the Maple tree being Canada's official tree, that we should be making love under maple trees, and not just white pines. If we're going to do things all official like. You know, according to a Guide book."_

 _Jack let out a laugh. "I love you."_

" _And don't forget the Shore pine is Alberta's official tree . . . .the birch tree is Quebec's official tree. . . We should probably make sure we make love under every province's official tree. You know, in case we eventually get transferred there", Elizabeth murmured as she had begun kissing Jack with long slow kisses._

" _Don't forget Saskatchewan", he reminded her quietly before pulling her in to a deep passionate kiss._

 _He had rolled on top of her, careful to keep his weight on his elbows as she moved her hips under him. Her fingers caressed the muscles of his back, and then held him tightly. She inhaled the scent of the pine needles clinging to his body and scattered in his hair as they made love again._

* * *

Now, Jack's breathing slowed and a calmness overcame him as he let his memories of Elizabeth overtake the pain in his body. He concentrated on the scent of pine trees and re-lived the feeling of her breasts, the taste of her mouth, the taste of her skin.

The deep throaty calls of the black birds forced him to open his eyes and he looked in the direction of the sound.

He turned away when he saw the ravens feeding on the quiet corpse of the once angry man.

Jack took a deep breath and placed his uninjured hand on the ground, pushing himself onto his knees.

He clenched his teeth in pain.

Using the strong tree trunk as a support, he slowly straightened his legs and stood upright, keeping most of his weight off his wounded thigh.

"Elizabeth, we still have a lot of trees to make love under", he said with determination as he began limping away from death and towards his life.

 **Up next: Chapter 5**


	5. Chapter 5 - Home and the long way there

**Chapter 5 - Home and the long way there**

Elizabeth sat at her small desk, which was scattered with empty chocolate bar wrappers. For the second time in the last five minutes, she scratched out her incorrect correction of a student's test paper. The strength and positive feeling she had initially felt when she sent four telegrams inquiring about Jack had dissipated as the day wore on.

The knock on the home's front door was a welcome distraction.

"Come in, come in", she said as she invited Lucy, who was holding baby Maddy, and her husband, who was holding a pot and a loaf of bread, into the home.

"We brought you some chili. I made plenty so I thought you might like some for supper."

Elizabeth quickly gathered up the candy wrappers and threw them in the nearby trash bin before Lucy could notice that she had bought several more from the mercantile.

"I'm not hungry. But thank you. I'll eat later."

Lucy ignored her response and motioned for Elizabeth to sit down. "Elizabeth, stop worrying. I'm sure Jack is fine. There's no reason for you to not eat something."

"You're the one that told me that my shivering was something tragic", Elizabeth said accusatorily.

"Maybe I over-exaggerated. Michael says I do that sometimes."

"I do say that", Michael readily acknowledged as he headed for the kitchen.

"I see you've been filling up on chocolate", Lucy remarked as she saw an empty wrapper that Elizabeth had overlooked.

"I'm taking Mary Mary's advice. Eating chocolate while I nervously wait."

"Elizabeth, I totally agree that chocolate is good, but you need to eat something more for you and the baby you're carrying. Jack will just get upset when he gets back if he finds out that you were worried for no reason and not eating well."

Elizabeth looked at the other woman in shock. "How did you know that I'm pregnant again?! We haven't told anyone yet!"

Lucy shrugged. "You have that look about you."

"A healthy glow?"

"Yeah, that's it", Lucy answered after hesitating for a split second.

"A nice healthy rosy glow", she quickly added with an upbeat smile before following her husband into the kitchen.

Elizabeth stood up and paused; she smiled as thought about how she must look.

"I thought you said that you suspected that she was pregnant because she had that tired drained look of a new mother wondering how the heck she managed to get herself pregnant again so soon," Michael said in a loud whispered voice.

"Hush, she'll hear you."

"I already did", Elizabeth called out tiredly from the other room before going to take the diapers off the clothes line.

* * *

The rain had stopped and the sun had come out, drying Jack's hair and bloodied clothes.

He had been limping for almost three hours. In top shape, he should have already traveled at least twelve miles, but he conceded that he had probably only gone about two.

 _At this rate, I'll be an old man by the time I get back home._

If he remembered correctly from his rounds over the past few days, he should reach a homestead within the next mile. If he made it that far.

His hand trembled and he looked down at his pale fingers. He was losing blood again.

Jack collapsed his weary body onto the hard ground and began looking at his wounds, which had bled through the cloth coverings. If he didn't fix them now, he'd never make it to the homestead.

He arched his back slightly and looked down at his damaged torso. The outer diaper, held in place with twine, was a wet dark crimson-red.

Jack reached into his bag and took out the remaining unused diapers.

Gingerly, he removed the top fabric from his stomach and looked at the diaper wedged into his wound. It was drenched in blood but he didn't want to remove it and risk a renewed flow of blood. Instead, he left it intact and replaced the outer cloth with a fresh one.

A bright red spot immediately began to spread on its stark whiteness as it touched his wound. Jack quickly put another one on top of it and retied them.

He was tending to his thigh wound when something made the hair on his neck prickle.

He jerked his head up, sensing something.

He just didn't know what.

Looking around warily, he saw nothing amiss. He was about to turn his attention back to his thigh when he saw the animal standing still at the edge of the woods.

Watching him.

 _You got to be kidding me!_ Jack thought in angry exasperation.

The large bobcat was curiously eyeing him; its body ready to charge if it saw an opportunity to bring down a weaker animal. Even though Jack couldn't clearly see the details of the animal's face, he could easily imagine what the animal was doing. Lifting its nostrils into the breeze and twitching its nose. Inhaling the scent of Jack's sweat and blood.

Automatically, Jack went over in his head what he remembered about bobcats. They were patient; often waiting hours to attack prey. In addition to their exceptional sense of smell and eyesight, they also had excellent hearing.

The wild felines were known for being skillful at tree-climbing, swimming, and fighting other animals. Three things Jack was lacking the ability to do with his injuries.

The bobcat's natural instinct was to chase, catch, and kill prey.

With a frown, Jack realized he was the already-wounded prey.

He tried to yell to scare the animal, but he was too tired to get out more than a very nonthreatening and feeble sound.

 _Damn cat! Isn't anything going to go my way._

Shifting his attention away from the cat for just a moment, Jack brought out his pistol and then lazily fired in the direction of the animal. Knowing it would be hopeless at this distance, he didn't bother to aim for a kill, and was satisfied when the cat, startled by the sound, turned and ran off.

As a grey squirrel with a fluffy tail scampered past Jack, he looked at his watch and then at the sun in the sky, realizing he could wait a little longer until he got moving.

 _I just need to rest a minute. Maybe five. That's all._

Understanding that the gunshot may have only temporarily scared away the cat, Jack didn't dare close his eyes or risk falling asleep.

 _I don't care how hungry that cat is. I'm not going to be its next meal._

But as the sun warmed him, and his exhaustion from blood loss and three hours of limping caught up to him, Jack's head began to nod slowly down.

Within minutes, memories of his youth came back to him as he surrendered to his fatigue.

* * *

" _I'm hungry."_

" _Be quiet."_

" _But I'm hungry", eight-year old Tom whined again._

" _If you keep yapping your mouth, you'll scare away the squirrel and I'll never get anything for dinner."_

" _How come I don't get to use the gun."_

" _Cuz you're too young. You know that", Jack, who was lying prone on the forest ground, reminded his brother._

" _It's not fair"_

" _What's not fair?"_

" _That Pa taught you how to hunt and not me. Who's going to teach me?"_

" _I will. When you're old enough."_

" _Promise?"_

" _Sure. That's what brothers are for."_

" _Jack?"_

" _Yeah?"_

" _Are you always going to take care of me?"_

" _Course I am."_

" _What if you can't?"_

' _Why couldn't I?"_

" _Cuz. You want to be a Mountie like Pa was. What if you die like him?"_

" _I ain't going die like him. Don't be stupid."_

" _I ain't stupid! . . . Ma says I'm just lazy when it comes to schooling."_

" _I'm not going to die. I'm going to be a Mountie and have a family. And I'm never going to leave them."_

" _Pa left us."_

" _Pa couldn't help leaving us. But I'm strong. He always said so. He said I was him and Ma mixed together so I was stronger than just him."_

" _Ma sure is strong", Tom admitted._

" _Sure she is. And I'm both of them."_

" _What about me?"_

" _You're both of them too but Pa said you're more trouble. That's why it's probably best that I'm the older brother."_

 _. . . ._

 _The boys, carrying three dead squirrel between them, walked back home whistling._

" _Thanks, Jack."_

" _For what?"_

" _For being my older brother."_

" _You're welcome . . . But I didn't really get a choice, you know."_

" _I'm glad you're never going leave your family when you grow up."_

" _I expect they'll be real glad too", a pleased Jack had answered confidently._

" ' _specially cuz you're so good at hunting squirrel", Tom had nodded knowingly._

* * *

Jack woke with a start and quickly looked around. Seeing that the cat was nowhere in sight, he let out a relieved sigh and opened his canteen, taking a large chug of water.

A smile formed on his tired face at the memory of Tom's and his words from all those years ago.

 _I sure hope Elizabeth and Thatch love me for more than just my ability at hunting squirrel,_ Jack thought with a chuckle.

* * *

"Did you know right away that you loved Michael?" Elizabeth asked Lucy, who was walking around the front room carrying both babies, allowing her to sit at the table, sipping a cup of tea and trying to relax while Michael gave the women some privacy.

"No. Not right away."

"Jack and I were friends first. It seemed to take forever until we admitted how we really felt about each other", Elizabeth offered as she reached for the small honey pot and then held the wooden dipper over her teacup, watching the thick amber substance drizzle into her beverage.

"I know what you mean. My goodness, the three days we knew each other before Michael got the courage to tell me that he loved me seemed an eternity."

"Three days?!"

Lucy nodded simply as a stunned Elizabeth stared at her.

"I thought you said it wasn't right away!"

Lucy looked at Elizabeth curiously. "It wasn't. It was two days before I knew that I loved him and another day until he told me first."

Elizabeth stared at her best friend some more, before shaking her head in wonderment and taking another sip of tea.

"What did you first love about Jack?"

"Oh everything!"

"Then what took so long for you to get engaged?" a confused Lucy asked with furrowed brow.

"It's not that easy! We come from different lifestyles. And he was stubborn. Proud of being middle class and a Mountie. But he was so handsome. He made my heart start beating fast every time I saw him. Still does. We decided to take our time. Getting to know each other. And he was so nervous around me at times, getting himself all tongue-tied", Elizabeth giggled.

"But I just love everything about him", she added with a smile and sigh.

* * *

A sweating Jack had been limping along for ten minutes when he noticed the bobcat off in the distance, but slowly moving closer. He realized it must have been following him since he started walking again after his brief rest.

Jack had hunted enough times to know how it worked once the prey was spotted.

Patience.

Stealthily track.

Close the distance.

Attack.

Kill.

Eat.

The cat had already completed the first three steps, and Jack wasn't looking forward to the next three.

Fighting against the pain, he hurried his pace and tightly gripped his weapon. Despite his years of experience with guns, he didn't trust his aim in his weakened state; he'd have to wait until the cat got close enough so that he had a better chance of stopping it.

Five minutes later, the cat was sprinting across the open field at full speed towards Jack. It took huge strides, its hind prints falling exactly on top of its fore prints in the characteristic motion of a cat bearing down on its next victim.

Jack's heart pounded in his chest as he quickly dropped to his knees and prepared to shoot.

Despite feeling light-headed, he tried to keep his arm steady as he held it out and waited for the cat to get closer. Counting the amount of time until he was close enough to be sure of hitting it.

Twelve seconds.

Ten seconds.

Eight seconds.

Five seconds.

Three -

A shot ran out and Jack fell sideways onto the ground. His face hitting the dirt and his gun falling from his hand.

His eyes remained closed and his mind unconscious as the warm body walked across the field and leaned over him.

 **Up next: Chapter 6**


	6. Chapter 6 - Homework

**Chapter 6 - Homework**

"Ma, is he goin' die?"

"I certainly hope not. Doc Sweton thinks he's going to be okay. As long as he doesn't get an infection."

"Petey says he's going to die", the young boy replied knowingly.

"Don't listen to your brother. He exaggerates."

Mrs. Michaelson finished straightening the sheet on the bed and looked pitifully at the unconscious man. When her oldest son and her husband had brought the bloody man home, she found it hard to believe that he was still alive.

"Do you think he has a family?"

"He's wearing a wedding ring so I expect he does", she answered matter of factly.

"He sure is handsome", the fourteen-year old girl in the bedroom said wistfully as she looked at Jack's bare chest, and then imagined his naked body underneath the sheet.

"Keep your eyes where they belong, young lady. You can go bring me a pitcher of water to put on his nightstand."

"Make Matthew do it. I'll stay and keep an eye on him."

"Elizabeth", her mother said sternly. It hadn't escaped her attention that while the doctor was tending to the wounded Mountie, her teenage daughter had been busy brushing her hair, pinching her cheeks to add some color, and changing into her Sunday-best blouse.

"Yes, ma'am", the girl answered sullenly. She took a final longing look at Jack before she walked out of the room, passing by her younger brothers and sister who were hovering around the bed.

"Do you think he's got kids?", the ten-year old boy asked as he stared at Jack's weapon, knowing that he dared not touch it, as it hung in its holster on simple wooden peg on the wall.

"I can't imagine why a Mountie would have a stack of diapers if he didn't."

"Why hasn't he woken up yet?"

"It looks like he had a really rough day."

"Do you think it was the mountain man that axed him?" the youngest child in the family asked as she looked at bloodied clothes on the floor.

"Let's not talk about it anymore. He needs his sleep so let's let him rest. And you children need to do your homework."

"But Ma!"

"Homework. Your sister can help you while I make dinner", the middle-aged woman said as she gathered up the torn and bloody clothes and ushered her children out of the small bedroom, closing the door behind her.

 _Poor man. He's been through the ringer._

* * *

In his foggy mind, Jack had heard the voices. But the words were almost entirely an incomprehensible jumble. Only two words broke through the curtain of unconsciousness.

Elizabeth.

Homework.

Elizabeth and Homework.

The words brought him back to another Elizabeth and another time. A time before he had ever made love to her. Before he had ever held her in his arms and kissed her firm breasts with the familiarity of a husband. Before he had dared to do more than hope of a family with her.

* * *

 _Elizabeth, can you have dinner with me tonight?_

" _I'm sorry, Jack but I've got way too much work to do."_

" _I thought the students were supposed to have the homework, not the teacher", Jack had teased her as he had leaned against the door frame of the schoolhouse in the evening sunlight._

 _Elizabeth had let out a sigh. "I know. But they've turned in their essays, plus I have to grade their math tests. And I still have to work on the Christmas pageant."_

" _You have to eat."_

" _I know, but I'll be miserable company."_

" _How about I be the judge of that?"_

" _You're a Mountie, not a judge", she teased him as she stood up and shuffled her papers. "But I will let you walk me home."_

" _And?"_

 _Elizabeth smiled despite her tiredness after spending hours in the schoolhouse. "And I'll invite you to stay for dinner. . ._

 _. . . But it will just be sandwiches", she let him know._

 _Jack had chuckled as Elizabeth walked across the room towards him._

" _I'll take sandwiches."_

 _He picked up her woolen scarf and thick winter coat; the only garments left on the row of pegs which lined the back wall of the school house, and held up the coat to her._

 _She smiled as she turned her back to him and reached her arms backwards into the sleeves. As she moved her arms into the material, Jack pulled the coat up and forward, over her small shoulders._

 _His body was just inches away. She smelled his clean soapy scent, letting her know that he had taken the time to bathe after his rounds that day and before coming to see her._

 _He rightly suspected that a warm tingle went through her body as he turned her around and then placed the scarf around her neck._

 _As she pulled her hair out from under the coat and scarf, she said a silent thank you that the weather hadn't made her tresses turn into a bundle of frizz that day._

" _There. Now you're bundled up against the snow", Jack had remarked pleasantly as he tied the scarf in a loose knot around her neck._

" _I just need to put on my gloves", she noted as she reached into her pockets._

" _Actually I was planning on keeping your hands warm."_

 _He moved towards her, and she suddenly felt the miniscule muscles on her skin contract and form little goose bumps on her arms._

 _Slowly she backed up a step and found herself with her back an inch from the hard wall and her front an inch from Jack. Despite the fact that he was wearing a coat, she knew how muscled his body looked under the layers._

" _Jack", she questioned softly._

" _Hmm", he said as he gently picked up a lock of her hair and began twirling it around one of his fingers._

 _He smiled at her, knowing how he made her feel._

 _They had only been courting for a few months but Jack had realized that as he had become more confident around her, Elizabeth had started to become more tongue-tied, especially when they were alone together._

" _You shouldn't stand so close to me", she said breathlessly._

" _I like standing close to you."_

 _He leaned towards her, and raised one of his arms, placing his hand on the wall behind her, trapping her beneath his body._

" _But . . . someone might see us." She swallowed an uneasy gulp as she tried not to think about how incredibly handsome he looked._

" _We're just talking", he noted with a twinkle in his eyes._

 _Elizabeth nervously tried to think of something to say; something to keep the conversation going so she didn't stand there like a love-struck girl staring longingly at his lips._

 _She knew what he was going to do. He was going to kiss her and leave her entirely breathless and wanting more._

 _Her whole body wanted him to take her into his arms and make passionate lustful love to her despite knowing how utterly impractical that was. After all, they were dressed in thick coats, standing in a school house, and not married._

 _Although she ashamedly suspected that if only two of those three things were true, she would be a more than willing participant._

 _Elizabeth swiftly shifted her gaze from Jack's ever-so desirable mouth to the papers in her arms._

" _I've graded so many papers, I feel like I've absorbed the homework by osmosis. I probably taste like homework", she said quickly, practically fumbling over her words._

 _Right after she spoke, she realized the implication; that she wanted Jack to taste her._

 _She blushed and looked down at her boots, avoiding Jack's eyes. He probably thinks I'm a forward hussy, she thought to herself._

" _Hmm. Taste like homework? I'll be the judge of that. . . Even if I am just a Mountie", he had said huskily as he lifted her chin and slowly leaned his head down towards hers._

 _He found her lips warm and soft. They tasted delicious - like wintergreen, and he realized that she had been expecting him to come for her after school. Preparing for his lips. His kiss. His taste._

" _Homework never tasted so good", he whispered before moving away._

" _Well, shall we go? I think we have some sandwiches to make for dinner", he said with a grin, pretending not to notice Elizabeth's heavy breathing and her disappointed look that he had pulled away._

* * *

As Jack's body fought to repair itself, his mind continued to drift in and out of consciousness.

He heard the sound of the door creaking open but he was too tired to open his eyes so he lay there wondering if he was still dreaming.

He felt the presence of someone near him. He felt the soft fingers on his wrist. But still . . . he didn't know if it were real or if it was his mind teasing him.

Someone pulled back the sheet which covered his body and he flinched when the fingers touched his wounds.

The woman removed the thick pads of gauze covering each wound before picking up the small brown bottle from the nightstand.

Following the doctor's instructions she held a cloth by each wound to soak up the drips as she gently poured the purplish liquid onto the newly stitched skin. The man jerked slightly but remained unconsciousness.

She waited patiently while the iodine dried before she re-covered the injuries. The woman knew that if the man was her husband or one of her children, she would gently blow on the wounds to quicken the drying time.

But somehow, it seemed too personal with him. That would be something his own wife would do.

As she returned the bottle of iodine to the nightstand, she looked at the man and then turned her eyes to the photograph.

She had found it in his jacket pocket when she had taken his clothes outside to wash. After she had emptied the garments, she had scrubbed them with strong lye soap until the water had changed from red to pink and eventually clear of the tinge of his blood. If she had time tonight, she'd sew the three large rips caused when the ax sliced into him so he would have something to wear if he recovered.

Mrs. Michaelson set the black and white photograph back onto the nightstand. It was a simple picture and she realized it was quite lovely in its casualness.

A woman wearing a light-colored knit hat and the man in a cowboy hat. They looked happy; like the photograph had been taken without much serious planning. There was no child in the picture so Mrs. Michaelson assumed that it was taken when the couple was courting or engaged or even newly married.

 _He must have a child now. Or expecting one. Why else would he have the diapers._

 _Oh dear, I hope he lives. For the sake of his family._

* * *

It was late by the time Elizabeth put aside the students' papers and made her way into the bedroom.

She paused to look at Thatch, who was sleeping soundly in his bassinet. He had kicked off his thin blanket so she covered him again, knowing that he would most likely kick it off again within the hour.

Despite the warm weather during the day, a night chill had crept into the mercantile home.

As Elizabeth sat on the side of her bed and took off her woolen slippers, she sighed in exhaustion.

She hoped that she was tired enough.

She had purposely stayed up two hours later than usual, hoping that she would be so tired that when she finally crawled into bed, sleep would come quickly. She didn't want to spend another night lying in the darkness worrying about Jack.

Five minutes later, Elizabeth wiped the tears from her eyes.

Her feet were cold.

Not just cold.

They were lonely. They needed Jack's warm legs to smoosh under.

She needed to hear him laugh and complain that he couldn't possibly sleep with her cold feet under him.

She needed him.

Knowing that she still wasn't tired enough to allow her mind to stop worrying, she climbed out of bed and went back to her desk, turning on the dim light.

She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob as she finished grading homework.

* * *

U **p next: Chapter 7**


	7. Chapter 7 - Recovery

**Chapter 7 - Recovery**

Beth Michaelson was sitting by the bedside, admiring her sleeping male patient and daydreaming of being a nurse, when her younger brother, who was enthralled with the idea of having a real-life wounded Mountie in his room, noticed Jack move his head and open his eyes.

"Ma! He's awake! The Mountie's awake!" eight-year old Matthew yelled as he ran from the room. "He's not dead!"

Jack blinked his eyes and stared curiously at the pretty girl by his bedside.

"Who are you?" his dry voice croaked.

The girl, who had recently taken to reading her mother's copies of Ladies Home Journal, was glad that she had read the magazine's hint and put Vaseline on her lips to make them glossy and desirable.

"I'm Elizabeth", she said happily as she handed him a glass of water, which he carefully took with his good arm. "I'm almost fifteen", she added with a confident smile.

She leaned over him, lifting up his pillow and placing another one under it so he could drink with his head raised. She lingered longer than necessary, hoping that the injured man would appreciate her bosom and not realize that she had padded it with handkerchiefs.

"My wife's name is Elizabeth."

The girl's face fell instantly.

"So you're really married", she grumbled.

Jack took a small sip of water and moved to put the glass on the nightstand; the girl caught it just before it fell from his grasp.

His head collapsed back onto the pillows.

"Where am I?"

"You're at our ranch", Mrs. Michaelson replied as she walked into the room like a mother goose followed by a gaggle of children, and scooted her daughter Beth away from the bed.

"My oldest boy found you as you were about to get attacked by a mountain lion. He shot the cat, and you near about scared him to death. You passed out at the same time he fired and he thought for sure that he had hit you somehow. He didn't; just in case you're wondering."

"Am I okay?"

Despite his fatigue, the worry was evident in his voice.

"So far. The doctor was here again a few hours ago. You lost a lot of blood but your coloring is coming back. The doctor put 70 stitches in you."

"How long have I been here?"

"Since yesterday. We've been waiting for you to wake up."

Jack's voice was soft and it was evident that each word caused him more effort than it should have.

His few sentences had already worn him out so Mrs. Michaelson had to lean forward and ask him to repeat himself when he spoke again.

"I've got to get word to my wife", he murmured for the second time.

"We're actually very curious about her. You've been mumbling the oddest assortment of things. We assumed some of it must have been about her. We just weren't sure which."

Jack was too weak to lift his head again but he furrowed his brows in confusion at the woman's statement.

"Princess, walking disaster, Elizabeth, stubbed toes, the only one, . . .something about a coal mine- -which we had no idea what it had to do with anything. Really, just an odd list. You must have a very interesting wife."

* * *

Elizabeth, working on less than five hours of sleep, stood at the chalkboard watching two of her students tackle fractions. She had originally planned on bringing cookies to help the children understand the math, but she had been too preoccupied yesterday to bother baking.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Thornton. You got a telegram. I know you had asked earlier if anything had come in, so I thought I'd bring this over right away", the young man said as he walked in the schoolhouse door, causing the entire class of students to turn their heads and look at him.

"Yes, thank you," she replied hesitantly as she crossed the room to take the envelope from the man.

"Class, work on math on your own. I'm just going to go outside for a minute."

Elizabeth was halfway out the door when the children yelled out to her. "The baby, Mrs. Thornton. You forgot your baby. We're not supposed to let you forget about your baby!"

Desperate to read the telegram, Elizabeth's heart was already beating rapidly when she turned around and quickly went to the bassinet by her desk.

Clutching the telegram in her hand, she picked up her son and gave a forced carefree smile to her class. "Yes. Thank you. But I hadn't forgotten him. I was just going outside for a moment. We'll be right back. Now do your math."

Elizabeth hurriedly sat on the wooden front porch right outside the doorway and carefully lay the baby next to her before anxiously opening the envelope.

When she pulled out the telegram, she realized that it had been stuffed in the envelope upside down and backwards. The half-second it took for her to turn the paper the right way seemed more like ten minutes of suffocation as her anxiety kept her from breathing.

After reading the few curt sentences, she let out a deep sigh and shook her head.

She had been worried for more than a day, yet it took less than five seconds to have the fear and worry cleared away by the single thin sheet of paper.

 _I was so silly. I can't believe I was worried for no reason._

Walking back inside, she smiled genuinely as she put Thatch into his bassinet _._

"Okay, children. Let's get the next two of you to the chalkboard. Fractions can be fun."

* * *

"Did you send the telegrams?" Jack asked the woman as she brought in a tray with a bowl of soup a few hours later. After helping him sit up, she placed the tray on his lap and handed him a spoon.

"I had my oldest go into town and send them. One to Bear Creek and one to the Mountie office in Blackstown. Doctor Fontaine notified the Mounties yesterday but we sent them another telegram letting them know you had woken up."

"I don't want my wife to worry."

"All wives worry about the men they love."

Jack moved in the bed to get more comfortable but quickly cringed when he felt the tightness of his newly sewn skin pulling.

"Still. I feel bad when she worries. And she's pregnant and has our little boy to take care of."

"We sent the telegram just as you asked."

Jack lifted up the metal spoon and slowly took a small sip of vegetable soup before speaking again.

"My horse? Any word on it?"

"No sign of it yet, but my husband told the neighbors and we'll all be keeping a look out for it. You're in no shape to ride anyway. Doctor says it would just open up all the stitches he's done. The next train headed in your direction isn't for another three days. Doc says you can travel then if you're real careful. He'd prefer if you wait at least a week."

"I want to get home as soon as I can."

"I understand. If you don't have an infection, my husband will take you in the wagon to the train station. Now finish your soup."

Jack took another spoonful of the warm liquid but then dropped the utensil and leaned back.

"I'm too tired for any more now. I'll have the rest in a bit", he explained wearily as he realized that his need to sleep overtook his need to eat.

* * *

"I can't believe how worried you had me," Elizabeth said accusatorily. She had gone right over to Lucy's home after the school-day had ended to share the telegram with her friend.

"Me? What did I have to do with this?" Lucy asked as she dunked her mop into a bucket of water and then moved it along the kitchen floor.

"You told me that something tragic had happened to Jack!"

Lucy continued swishing the mop across the floor as she thought about it. "Actually, I didn't say it was Jack. You're the one that dreamed about him."

"Well, it wasn't him that was in trouble. It was his horse. That's all. His horse needs some care so Jack is going to take the next train back home. It might be a few days."

"Did Jack say what kind of trouble his horse got in?"

"No, but I'm sure it wasn't that serious. The telegram made it sound like just an inconvenience."

"I wonder why you got the Angel's shivers around your cleaver. A horse would never be using a cleaver", Lucy said pensively.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes in disgust. "Of course, a horse wouldn't be using a cleaver. This has nothing to do with a cleaver!"

"Maybe not a cleaver, but it has something to do with a sharp blade. You _did_ have a shivering."

"Well, just maybe your friend Mary Mary doesn't know what she's talking about. Did you ever think about that?"

Lucy paused with her mop in the bucket.

"Do you really like Jack's horse? Maybe you have some kind of infatuation with it? That's why you had the shivering about it."

"I do not have an infatuation with Jack's horse! I did not have a shivering because of anything!"

Lucy raised her eyebrows in disbelief as she looked at Elizabeth. She continued to talk as she picked up the bucket of dirty water and dumped it into the sink.

"I never thought of you as a horse lady before. Have you ever read the novel "Black Beauty"?

"I am not in love with a horse! I just got a chill from the weather! That's all!"

* * *

Jack slept for another ten hours; letting his body replace the supply of blood that had been left on the open field and across the valley as he had walked for miles.

He slept soundly at times and less soundly at others. His sleepy movements, which normally wouldn't bother him, now caused him to flinch in pain when he pressed his shoulder or thigh against the mattress.

When he was lucid, he reached out his legs and realized that he missed Elizabeth's cold feet under him. He wasn't used to sleeping in a bed without her. When he traveled, his sleeping bag and tent were his bedroom. A soft mattress and sheets were things he associated with home. He missed kissing her goodnight and wrapping an arm around her as she lay next to him.

Sometimes he was aware of the hushed voices in the room and a female hand on his forehead checking to see if a fever had started. Sometimes it was a nervous young touch. Other times, it was a motherly touch.

"Should I kiss him, Ma? That's what you always do."

"Just use your hand, Beth."

"But Ma, you always say that –"

"Just use your hand, dear. There's no need for you to kiss him", she informed her disappointed daughter. "If we're worried, we can use the thermometer."

Jack tried to open his eyes to see the faces behind the voices, but he didn't have the strength.

The soft motherly voice brought Jack to another time.

Another time when a gentle woman took care of him.

Another place.

Another mother.

And a father.

* * *

" _Son, you're practically falling asleep while you're stacking the wood. Be careful you don't drop a log on your foot."_

" _I guess I'm just tired."_

" _Didn't you sleep well last night?", Thomas Thornton asked over his shoulder before going back to carrying wood._

" _I think I did." Jack placed another log onto the woodpile and then sank himself down on the pile. "I don't feel so good, Pa."_

 _The man set down his load of wood and walked over to Jack, placing his rough calloused hand on his son's forehead. "You don't feel feverish. But let's get you inside"." . . . . . ._

 _. . "Charlotte, Jack's feeling a little tired."_

" _I'm okay, Ma. I just don't feel so good", Jack said as his father led him to the couch, and his mother hurried over from the kitchen._

" _What's bothering you?"_

" _I don't know."_

" _Head? Belly?"_

" _No. Just ain't got no energy."_

 _Charlotte reached over and placed her lips on Jack's forehead._

 _"He's got a fever", she announced. The concern evidence in her voice._

" _Charlotte, I felt his forehead and it seemed fine to me."_

" _He's got a fever. Get him into bed", she instructed as she went to get a washcloth to run under cool water and fill with crushed ice._

" _I'll get the thermometer."_

" _You don't need a thermometer. I just told you he has a fever. Probably about one hundred and one degrees."_

" _Charlotte, you cannot possible know that by kissing his forehead." . . ._

 _. . . ._

 _. . ._

 _. . . "Do I got a fever, Pa?" Jack asked weakly as he lay in bed after his father had helped him change into his pajamas._

 _He watched his father scrutinize the small bead of mercury in the thin glass thermometer which he had just removed from Jack's warm mouth._

" _One hundred and one degrees. How did you do that?" her husband asked in disbelief when Charlotte walked into the bedroom._

" _It's a mother thing."_

 _Throughout the night, Charlotte crept into the darkened room more than once, removing the washcloth and gently placing her soft lips to her son's forehead to check his temperature, before replacing the cloth with a fresh cool one._

 _In the morning, she lifted his head, helping him sit up so he could drink some juice and take the aspirin that she held in her palm._

 _She held his glass for him so he wouldn't clumsily drop it and spill the liquid on his wrinkled sheets which were already damp with his sweat._ _She pushed his cow-licked hair off of his forehead and gave him a reassuring smile._

 _Jack didn't know why he was feverish, but it didn't matter._

 _He closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall back asleep._

 _His ma would make him better. She always did. That's what mothers did. And to the seven-year old, it seemed like he had the best mother in the world. And the best father. . ._

 _. . . ._

 _. . . "How you feeling today, son?"_

" _I'm bored! Ma says I have to stay in bed 24 hours after my fever's gone. But I feel all better, Pa. Can I go outside and play? Pleeassee?"_

" _No. Your ma's right. You stay in bed. But I brought you something."_

" _What is it?" Jack asked excitedly as he sat upright in bed._

" _Something I picked up in town."_

 _His father smiled and handed him the objects. "I've seen how you like to doodle. I thought maybe you could use a real sketchbook and pencils."_

 _Jack looked at the soft-covered book, opening it and running his hand over the smooth ivory-colored blank pages. His eyes moved to the three newly sharpened pencils his father had given him._

" _Those are real artist pencils. I thought you could use the green one for landscapes. If you're going to be a Mountie one day, you'll spend a lot of time outside looking at nature. You might as well start practicing now."_

" _Thanks, Pa!"_

" _Now you stay in bed and get better."_

" _I'm all better already. But I'll stay in bed drawing!"_

 _Jack's father leaned down and gave Jack a kiss on the top of his head. "I'll go check on lunch. I love you."_

" _I love you too, Pa. . . . And Pa, I'm sorry if I worried you and Ma."_

* * *

Elizabeth put some more of the tiny bits of crushed ice into a small washcloth and twisted it tightly before walking to the playpen and picking up a fussy Thatch. She ran her finger along his little gums again, feeling the tiny bump.

"Come here, pumpkin. Mommy will fix everything."

She wiped the drool off his tiny chin and then placed the cloth in her son's mouth, allowing him to suck on the coolness.

"I think you have a tooth coming in. Won't Daddy be surprised?"

She kissed his forehead, letting her lips linger on the baby's soft skin. Elizabeth was grateful when she noticed that it was nice and cool.

She held her son and walked around the front room, gently rocking him in her arms, and then pausing when she came to the long high counter which ran almost the entire length of the front room and was a remnant from the home's days as a mercantile.

Before he had left town, Jack had left his pencils and sheets of paper lying on top of the wood, and Elizabeth hadn't bothered to clean up and put them away.

Juggling her son in her arms, Elizabeth moved the three sheets of paper with one hand and looked at the artwork.

She smiled when she saw the one that Jack had recently worked on.

The drawing was halfway done; the soft wisps of the baby's hair were penciled in, as were his long delicate eyelashes, but the boy's pudgy cheeks weren't yet finished.

 _There's plenty of time. He'll finish it when he comes home,_ she thought with a smile.

 _There's nothing to worry about._

* * *

Through the closed single-pane window, Jack heard the recognizable sound of a rooster announcing the break of dawn.

He kept his eyes shut until he heard the creak of the bedroom door.

Without otherwise moving, he watched the door open and the youngest daughter of the Michaelson family walk in the room.

The little girl, without saying a word, walked across the room and picked up Jack's hat before sitting on the ground with it.

Jack watched curiously as the child examined the hat carefully, reaching her hand into it, holding it upside down and shaking it, and then waving it about. She ran her hand along the inside. And then along the outside.

Finally, finding nothing interesting about Jack's hat, she stood up and began examining Jack's belongings which were laid out on the dresser. She was most definitely looking for something specific. She hesitated with her fingertips on his satchel, tempted to open it, but first she glanced in Jack's direction.

When she saw that Jack was awake and quietly staring at her, the girl approached the bed, and sat her body on the mattress near his chest. Slowly she reached out a tiny hand, stopping just before she reached his unshaven face.

"Can I touch them?"

"What?"

"Your dimples"

A perplexed Jack simply nodded.

"Smile", she ordered.

When Jack obliged, the girl reached out her other hand and pressed a finger to each dimple, patiently keeping her fingers there for five seconds. Finally, she moved them away.

"Nothing", she said with a disappointed sigh.

"What did you expect?"

"You're not a magician, are you?"

"I'm a Mountie. Why would you think I was a magician?"

"My ma told my pa that your dimples put Beth under a spell", the girl said as she jumped down from the bed.

Jack gave a weak chuckle and then immediately winced in pain.

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"That's okay. I didn't think you were. You don't have a rabbit in your hat or even a wand", the girl said casually as she skipped out of the room.

 _If I were a magician, I would magically get myself home._ Jack thought wistfully.

Despite having already slept most of time that he had been at the ranch, he closed his heavy eyelids and fell back asleep again.

While he lay in bed, seemingly doing nothing physically demanding other than to allow his chest to expand in and out, the cells inside his body were busy fighting against the bacteria which had silently entered his wounds.

The pine needles. The crushed grass. The small bugs in the dirt. The filth from the man's ax.

All of it was now quietly threatening Jack's life.

* * *

Elizabeth gently bounced her little boy on her lap, supporting him against her body as she finished her bowl of warm oatmeal.

She sat at the kitchen table thinking about the pot of soup she had made earlier for Jack. She decided that she would finish it off tonight and make him something new tomorrow. _Maybe a rabbit stew. Something hearty after his long travels._

She picked up the telegram she had received yesterday and looked at it again. It was simple. Just enough to let her know that Jack was delayed due to a problem with his horse.

 _If he doesn't have a horse, he probably isn't camping. He must be a hotel or staying at a boarding house. . . . I hope he's eating well._

"Stop, little one, you'll just get all sticky", Elizabeth said as she reached out and gently pried her son's hand away from the honey dipper. "The honey is for my breakfast tea. Not for you."

* * *

"You're going to be sticky!" the youngest Michaelson daughter announced as she watched her mother drizzle thick honey onto Jack's stomach wound.

A naked Jack tried to lie still while the woman tended to his injuries. "Can I get some more pain medication?" he asked tersely.

"Beth, hand him two more pills and some water", Mrs. Michaelson instructed as she put a bandage over the honey-covered stitches.

She lifted the sheet to expose Jack's thigh and glanced at her daughter to make sure that her eyes were averted before gently removing the gauze and examining the injury. The woman tried not to frown when she saw that the skin was inflamed and red.

"How is it?"

"It's fine. The honey will help to keep away infection. I know the doctor prefers iodine but I'm going to try honey. Let me just wash and dry it first."

The woman had spent seventeen years as a mother and even more as a wife. During that time, she had nursed her husband's scrapes, sprains, and any manner of illnesses, and had managed to keep her children from losing any limbs.

She didn't want to admit it to the man lying in her son's bed, but she was worried.

He was still too tired and his wounds didn't look good. It was mostly the thigh wound that bothered her.

She moved a soapy cloth along the stitches, wiping away the substance which was oozing out between the tight closings, and then patted the area with a fresh dry cloth.

 _If it gets infected, he could lose the leg,_ she thought worriedly.

 **Up next: Chapter 8**


	8. Chapter 8 - Home and Family

**Dear Readers, A couple people mentioned in response to the last chapter that they appreciated the use of honey to treat a wound. Thank you for noticing! For my stories, I've chosen not to include antibiotics, pregnancy tests, or any other medical things that hadn't been invented or were't readily available yet in the early 1900s. Jack and Elizabeth would have had to rely on the basics of iodine, aspirin, morphine, and a few other household items to deal with all their health concerns. (On a positive note, they would have had Oreo cookies, which were invented in 1912!)**

 **Chapter 8 – Home and Family**

Elizabeth woke up with a start. The nightmare, which had jolted her awake from a deep sleep, left her heart pumping erratically in her chest.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to forget the scene which had occupied her mind just seconds before. _Go away. Stop thinking of it._

But the images were still there. Refusing to leave. Images of blood. An injured Jack looking at her; begging her to help him. Her standing there helplessly looking at him as the blood dripped from his body.

 _Stop thinking of it! Damn nightmare!_

Elizabeth, now fully awake, reached out her hand, touching the mattress next to her. For a brief moment, she naively hoped that Jack had come home in the middle of the night and crawled into bed next to her while she slept too soundly to notice.

Her fingers touched the cold mattress as she swept her hand across the expanse. There was no Jack. Only the emptiness of where he should be.

The clock on the nightstand let her know that it was only two o'clock in the morning. Elizabeth climbed out of bed, shivering as her feet touched the wood planks of the floor, and made her way to the bassinet, with the full moon illuminating the way.

Earlier, before going to bed, she had opened the window's curtain, preferring to have some light coming in, rather than sleeping in total darkness and without Jack's secure arms around her.

The faint moonlight was not enough to discern the fabric color, but it was enough that she could see that her little boy had kicked off his blanket again.

He was sleeping so soundly that Elizabeth knew that she shouldn't move him; she should just cover him up again.

Instead, she gently picked up the infant and nestled him to her body before crawling back into bed with him. She lay on her side, cradling Jack's namesake against her body to share her warmth, being careful to keep the feather-filled comforter from covering his tiny face.

In five hours, she would have to get ready for the school day.

And wait.

Wait for word from Jack as to when he would be home. Home where he belonged. She needed to see him to know that he was alright.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to come quickly.

For time to hurry up.

* * *

Jack was tired of days of being cooped up inside. His time with the Michaelson had gone by slower than he had imagined. Days of lying in bed. Fighting the pain. Dreaming of his family. Praying that his wounds didn't get infected.

Thanks to the care of the Michaelson family, he had graduated from sipping soup in a bed to eating hearty meals at the family table.

This morning, he sat on the edge of the single bed of one of the young boys, and nervously waited for the doctor to finish examining him.

"Well?"

"All clear", the doctor announced. "The shoulder and stomach look the best. But the thigh's looking much better than I had dared hope."

"No infection?"

Jack realized how tense he had been while he waited for the doctor to speak.

"No infection. Make sure you keep them clean and don't pull open the stitches. You can continue with iodine and honey too for a few more days."

"I can go home? I can travel?"

"From what I understand, you've had the train ticket for a few days now", the doctor said with a chuckle as he covered Jack's wounds with fresh gauze and wrapped them with bandages. "I don't think I can stop you if I wanted to."

"I'm kind of in a hurry", Jack admitted sheepishly.

"You still need to get the Michaelsons to give you their approval, and I think they may be stricter than me", the doctor cautioned with a smile as he packed up his simple medical supplies.

* * *

The Michaelson family, which had been hovering over Jack for days and nights, had adopted him as if were a wounded and abandoned stray dog.

"But, mom! He should probably stay a few more days", Beth Michaelson pleaded when she heard the news that the handsome Mountie guest would be leaving.

When Jack smiled in response to her desperate plea, Mr. Michaelson gave him a stern look. Reminding him with his frown that Jack needed to refrain from showing his dimples.

"Can I go with him to the train station, Pa?" the younger of the Michaelson boys asked eagerly. "He can tell me more Mountie stories!"

"Me too!" yelled the other siblings, who were fascinated by the man of the law who had fought off the Mountain Man with an ax.

"You all can go . . . if you brush your teeth and make your beds."

* * *

After breakfast, Mrs. Michaelson handed Jack a pile of laundry before rushing around to take care of her other chores. He took the folded diapers and put them into his satchel but not before first noticing that some were tinged slightly pink despite having been soaked in bleach and then washed in lye.

He pulled on his thick trousers, gently easing them over the gauze-covered injury on his thigh. The grass stains and dirt had come out of the fabric as had most of the blood. Thankfully, the dark color of the cloth made the remaining stain barely visible.

It was a little harder for Jack to put on his shirt as he gingerly moved his shoulder. But he wasn't going to rely on anyone to help him.

As he put on his familiar outfit, Jack realized that he had been either naked or wearing his host's clothes since he had first arrived unconscious days earlier.

Now, as he dressed in his own clothes and got ready for his upcoming trip, he thought of the new papers in his jacket's front pocket which joined his assignment orders. Typed in single space in black ink were the date and departure time; his train ticket home.

His departure time was in just two hours but he knew that time was a strange entity. When you wanted time to slow down or stop, it raced by like a train. But when you wanted it to move quickly, it seemed to crawl at the pace of a tortoise.

Right now, he wanted it to move quickly like a train.

A train.

That was the thing that was going to get him back to his family.

The other paper in his pocket, beside the train ticket, was the list of instructions from Mrs. Michaelson to Elizabeth; a note from one wife and mother to another. The rancher's wife had insisted on giving explicit instructions to Elizabeth on how to take care of Jack.

"I'm not about to have you get ill now after all the work I put into you", she informed Jack with a smile as she handed him the paper.

* * *

"What time is Jack arriving?" Lucy asked Elizabeth. The two women, each with a basket on one arm and a baby in the other, were standing in the grocery store amid the few shelves and bins of food.

"Not until early evening. I'm going to make him a nice stew for dinner."

Lucy stared at her best friend, noticing that Elizabeth's smile seemed to be underscored with concern.

"You okay?"

Elizabeth paused. "I -. I know I shouldn't be worried. But I had another nightmare about him.

Lucy, manuevered the baby in her arm, picked up a jar of honey from a shelf and put it in Elizabeth's basket. "Here, take this too."

"I have honey at home. I use it in my tea."

"You might need more."

Elizabeth gave Lucy a quizzical look. "Why would I need more?"

Lucy took a deep breath, contemplating what to say, before finally speaking her mind. "To treat any wounds. I know you don't believe me about your shivering. And you're probably right. But still, I like to be prepared. My mama always said that the best cure for worrying is preparing."

Elizabeth chuckled "My mother always said that the best cure for worrying is hiring more help."

She looked at the jar of honey in her basket and then reached for another one. "And since I can't hire any help, I guess I'll follow your mother's advice."

* * *

"Go slow", Mrs. Michaelson instructed her husband. "No bouncing our healing Mountie over any ruts. I haven't spent the last few days taking care of him just so he could split open his stitches on the way to train station."

"I'll go slow, dear. I didn't carry his unconscious bloody body all the way home just to have him pass out in my wagon either."

Jack accepted Mr. Michaelson's hand as he helped him onto the buckboard. As the wagon traveled away from the ranch, he waved goodbye with his uninjured arm to the Mrs. Michaelson, who stood on the front porch, holding back her daughter, Beth.

Settling down for the ride to the station, Jack thought back to that first day when he had been attacked. He had been on the brink of death, without hope of seeing his wife and son again.

Jack hadn't told Elizabeth about his injuries yet.

He wondered what she would say when she found out. He pictured her curiously lifting back his clothing to help him undress, and then lifting up the gauze on his wounds.

He imagined her looking at the new seams in his garments as she readied his clothes for the laundry. Elizabeth would most likely look at the length of the repairs and mentally imagine the ax coming down into his body. Again. And again.

 _Her eyes will probably fill with tears_ _as she looks at the wounds and my mended clothes_ , he thought to himself. But there was something he could do about it. And he already had; he had purposely kept his wounds from her. She never needed to know how bad they had been. By the time she saw him, he would already be over the worst.

The first telegram, which he had the older Michaelson boy send days earlier, merely informed her that he had been delayed due to a problem with his horse. The second telegram, sent just this morning, let her know what time to expect him at the train station. And that he loved her.

"You think maybe you should have told your wife about your injuries?" Mr. Michaelson asked as he steered the wagon towards town.

"Nah. She would just worry. I'm fine now."

"She'll know when she sees you that you were hurt and that you kept it from her."

"It's much better that she's been totally unconcerned about me over the last few days. She'd just get upset if she knew how bad I was hurt."

"She'll be real happy to see you. My wife always treats me real special when I've been gone for a while. Lots of pampering. . . . It's none of my business but I'm thinking that maybe you're not giving your wife enough credit."

"What do you mean?"

"From what you've told me, it seems to me that maybe she's strong enough to handle your injuries."

"You don't understand. She was raised in a very comfortable lifestyle."

"You don't live such a comfortable lifestyle now, do you?"

"Well, no. But she's changed a lot since we first met."

"Maybe she hasn't. Maybe you're the one who's changed."

Jack gave the man a curious look.

"You said she moved all the way to that small town by herself to teach. And she was a hard worker right from the start. Lived above a Cafe. Never complained. Stood up to her family to marry you. Seems to me that she's always been a strong woman. It's you that changed. Not her. You're the one that had a preconceived notion that she couldn't fit into a rural lifestyle and handle hard work. And you're the one that's been changing and realizing that she isn't the fragile woman you first thought she was. You're the one who realized you could be both a Mountie and a family man."

Jack crinkled his brows as he thought about it.

"Like I said, it's none of my business", Mr. Michaelson said. " 'course, I have been married almost twenty years now. I think I know a thing or two about women."

* * *

A hour later, Jack awkwardly stowed his bag in the rack above him, and collapsed onto the worn leather seat of the train.

He thought about the fact that he hadn't shaved in several days. Beth Michaelson had offered to help him but he had declined. It was probably silly, but Jack decided that the only woman that would ever help him shave was his wife. A memory popped into Jack's mind, as if he were reliving the moment for the second time in a week.

" _I missed you so much."_

" _Let me shave and bathe and then I'll show you how much I've missed you."_

Jack smiled as he remembered the rest of the scene.

This time, with his injuries, he wouldn't be able to pick her up by her waist. And if she wrapped her legs around his injured torso so he could carry her into the bedroom, he would most likely split open his stitches.

Still, he would love to be able to fumble with her panties as she lifted her hips to him. Their mouths refusing to leave each other's as they fell onto the bed, and after days of missing her, he would finally feel her under his weight.

* * *

Jack had quickly fallen asleep from the lull of the train's movement, and was surprised hours later when the sound of the locomotive's whistle announced that they would be arriving shortly in Bear Creek.

Straightening up in his seat, his eyes automatically moved from his shoulder to his abdomen and then to his leg. He placed his hand on his thigh, feeling the thick bandage under his pants' leg before sighing in relief. He gave a small smile when he noticed that his clothing was clean; no blood had seeped out of through the gauze. His stitches had remained intact.

As the train considerably slowed its pace, Jack looked out the window and watched the landscape passing by. He recognized the familiar ranches with their cattle and the farms with their acres of crops on the outskirts of town.

He ran his hands through his hair, hoping that he looked respectable, and waited impatiently for the squeal of the train's machinery to indicate that the engineer was applying the brakes.

"Bear Creek!" the conductor called out as he walked through the train car passing by the rows of seats and the occupants, some of whom stood up. Others were uninterested with his announcement and remained busy with their books, or meals, or companions.

"Do you need help, Constable?" the uniformed man asked as he noticed Jack stand up, fumble with his satchel, and then lean on a cane.

"Thanks. I'm okay. Just a little slower than usual."

"Have a good day. Thanks for traveling with us", the railway employee responded courteously as he continued down the aisle.

Jack waited patiently for the rest of the exiting passengers to leave the car first. The last thing he wanted was to be jostled in a crowd and reinjure himself.

* * *

The minutes seemed to crawl by.

Elizabeth had smartly dressed Baby Jack and bundled him under two blankets in the pram which her parents had sent from Hamilton. Now that the snow was melted, she could easily maneuver the thin wheeled pram on the streets and sidewalks, and she loved using it to take the baby for long walks through town. As an added bonus, she had discovered that the baby carriage was a very convenient place to put her school books and still have room for the baby.

For her trip to greet the train, she had initially thought about putting her son in the papoose but decided it was too cumbersome to do herself and, more importantly, she wanted to be able to fully embrace Jack when she saw him.

When the long passenger train finally pulled into the station, Elizabeth felt her pulse quicken with nervousness. She scanned the windows hoping for a glimpse of Jack but only saw blurs of movement and a few passengers idly staring out the glass panes.

As she waited on the platform, gently rocking the pram back and forth, and watching passenger after passenger step out of the train and down the metal steps, she began to get more worried that something had happened to Jack.

There was no Jack smiling at her or waving from the train.

She strained her neck to look around the crowd of people moving towards her. She realized that the train was more crowded than normal as new workers were arriving for the Spring planting season and cattle drives.

Passengers, some alone, and others with companions, stepped off the train and waved to friends and family members who were waiting to greet them.

Still there was no Jack.

When the last of the passengers had seemed to depart the train, and new passengers boarded, Elizabeth anxiously fumbled in her pocket for the telegram from Jack. Had she been mistaken? Did she have the wrong train? Did he miss the train?

She frantically looked up at the train one more time and briefly saw a disabled man with a cane exiting from the last car at the far end of the platform. He seemed to hesitate for a moment as if deciding the best way to get down the few steep steps.

Elizabeth turned back to searching her pocket for the telegram, and then paused.

Slowly, with sudden trepidation, she looked up again. Her eyes focused on the man who was more than 200 feet away.

Her hand, clasping the telegram, froze in her pocket and her breath caught in her throat.

He was limping.

Moving very slowly as he re-positioned his satchel over his shoulder and then walking down the platform with one hand on his cane was her husband.

"Jack", she whispered.

"Jack!"

Without another thought other than to be with her husband, Elizabeth hurried down the platform toward him. Cursing aloud as her tight skirt and heeled boots kept her from running faster.

"The baby! The baby, Elizabeth!"

 _The baby?_ Elizabeth thought in confusion as Jack's voice echoed down the now nearly empty railway platform.

 _The baby? Oh, my goodness, I forgot the baby,_ she realized with a start. Elizabeth screeched to halt, turned around and ran back sixty feet. She quickly grabbed the pram's handle, and started off again towards her husband, who was now chuckling.

Elizabeth, pink in the face from the spurt of exertion, gasped for breath when she halted in front of Jack.

His eyes met hers and he gave her a weak smile, feeling guilty that he hadn't warned her about his injuries.

"Oh, Jack", she lamented quietly as she looked at his haggard face.

"It's okay. Really it is", he said reassuringly as she stood there.

She didn't make a move to touch him.

"Where? Where are you hurt?"

"My shoulder. My abdomen. My thigh."

"Anything broken? Your ribs?" she asked. She still didn't move to touch him.

"No. Just stitches."

"How many?"

"Seventy. Give or take."

Elizabeth reached out her hand and gently cupped her husband's face. She ran her palm along his unshaven skin while she fought back her tears.

"Sorry, I didn't have time to shave. I should have gone to a barber. I was in a hurry to get home to you."

He turned his head slightly and kissed her palm. Letting his lips linger on her flesh. The platform was empty except for a few straggling passengers, railway employees, and the three of them. The small Thornton family. Jack didn't care if anyone saw his adoring gesture.

Elizabeth gave him a loving look. "I'll do it for you. Welcome home", she said tenderly as she leaned in for kiss. "Welcome home."

Their lips touched. And time stood still.

* * *

"All Aboard!", the conductor yelled from an open door of the train, bringing the couple back to reality.

"Give me your bag. We'll put it in the pram with your son", Elizabeth offered as she began to gently remove the strap from Jack's shoulder.

Jack, his body unable to decide if it should smile or cry from happiness, leaned down and looked at his son.

Jack's face broke out in a grin as little Jack Thatcher Thornton smiled up at him.

"Anything exciting happen while I was gone?" Jack asked nonchalantly, trying to keep the situation light so that one of them didn't break down in a release of worry. If it were between him and Elizabeth, he had a feeling that he would be the one to fall apart.

"Your son learned to roll over. Sort of", she answered with a smile.

"Sort of?"

Elizabeth gave a laugh. "Well, once. And only because I kind of nudged him over with my toe. But I'm still counting it as a roll."

* * *

"You're a strong Mountie wife. Face your fears, undress me, pick up the gauze, and change the dressing," Jack, sitting on the edge of the bed, said with a grin as Elizabeth stood in front of him hesitantly with a washcloth in one hand and a small bowl of soapy water in the other.

She had already shaved his face while he had sat in the kitchen chair with his son on his lap. The small boy had been mesmerized by the white lathering cream and Jack's laughter at the boy's antics had caused him to wince in pain.

After a shave and then eating a bowl of stew, with his son still on his lap, Jack had finally allowed Elizabeth to put the small sleepy boy in his bassinet.

"I hope I'm good at this", she now said as she gently pushed Jack's back down onto the bed and moved aside his unbuttoned shirt. He lifted up his hips, allowing her to pull off his pants.

"You'll be perfect."

"How do you know?"

Jack had smiled confidently. "Because you're my wife."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"I chose wisely. You didn't think I would let just anyone be my wife and the mother of my babies", he teased.

Jack lay flat on the mattress as Elizabeth hovered over him. Her long hair fell down, pooling on his chest, as she gently lifted up the first piece of gauze.

* * *

"There. All better", she said ten minutes later as she gave the last re-bandaged wound a quick light kiss.

Elizabeth started to move away but then hesitated. She placed the bowl of water and the wet washcloth on the nightstand before turned back to the bed.

Slowly she lowered her head down towards Jack's shoulder and kissed the cloth bandage tenderly.

"My poor Mountie", she whispered.

Her lips brushed against Jack's neck.

Her fingers trailed along his skin.

She softly kissed his abdomen. "My poor Mountie", she whispered again with her warm breath on him.

Her mouth moved to his injured thigh.

"My poor Mountie", she murmured for the third time. Her lips barely separated from his body.

"I can't move much", he said hoarsely. He wanted her so badly that it ached more than his injuries.

He had just decided that it was worth a few stitches popping open to be with her when she spoke again.

"Shhh. It's okay. Close your eyes and relax."

Slowly. Gently. Lovingly, Elizabeth moved on Jack.

Showing him her love.

Careful not to put pressure on his injuries.

But still letting him know the depth of her feelings.

* * *

The sun had set and the bedroom was bathed in moonlight. For the first time in several nights, Elizabeth, her husband next to her, slept without nightmares in the double bed.

Jack didn't want to disturb her but the dull pain from his injuries had woken him. He slowly reached out his arm to the nightstand and felt around with his fingers until he found the two small pills. Not bothering to take a drink of water, he swallowed the aspirin with just his spit.

While he listened to the silence, Jack thought about his orders to his next assignment. He hadn't told Elizabeth about them yet; there was only so much he wanted to dump on her at one time.

Best not to overwhelm her.

Although, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that she could handle it.

Jack heard the soft sounds of the beginning of a cry. He waited a moment to see if the baby would calm himself, but then realized it didn't matter.

He wanted to hold his son again. He wanted to cuddle with a pregnant Elizabeth in a soft clean bed with their son between them.

As Jack lay, breathing easily in his bed, he thought of having Thatch snuggle against him.

Quietly, he moved out from under a sleeping Elizabeth's arm, and climbed out of bed. The bassinet was just a few steps away. He gently picked up his son, relying on his uninjured arm, and carried him with his tiny head on Jack's strong shoulder. Rocking him gently back and forth on the wooden floor planks while the tiny boy made cooing sounds and grasped at Jack's short hair. His little fingers able to find strands to clutch.

Jack gingerly crawled back into bed and carefully lay on his back, resting his son on his chest. He looked over at Elizabeth. Her stomach hadn't yet swelled with the baby inside of her, but it would in the next month or so.

Jack would hold that child in his arms one day. One day that child, a boy or girl, would know the feeling of having Jack's chest moving up and down in slow respiration as Jack held the child securely and lovingly on his body.

"Everything okay?" Elizabeth murmured as she felt the movement in the bed.

"Everything's fine. Go back to sleep."

Elizabeth moved her feet under Jack's legs, smooshing them until she was comfortable.

Jack snickered. "Elizabeth, they're freezing"

"That's why I need you", she replied with a grin as she sleepily opened her eyes.

"You could just keep your socks on, you know."

"Uh uh. I want my handsome husband's warmth. It's much better than a pair of socks."

Jack smiled and reached out for her hand. "You know, we go through the same dialogue almost every night."

She gave his hand a squeeze and met his gaze. "And it's never going to get old."

With a smile on her face, she closed her eyes again.

* * *

Jack thought she had gone back to sleep and was surprised when Elizabeth spoke again a few minutes later.

"I saw the diapers. Thank you for remembering to buy them."

"You're welcome."

"They were tinged in pink. It made me think", she said simply.

The guilt caused Jack to frown in the darkness. This is what bothered him the most. That she would worry about him.

"I'm sorry, sweetie", he said quietly.

"Why are you sorry? I didn't even tell you what I was thinking."

"What were thinking?"

"That they were pink. That maybe we'll have a little girl this time", she said sleepily as she allowed herself to drift back to sleep.

As Jack closed his eyes against the moonlight, he thought about time and how ironic it was. Just a few days ago, he had thought that he would never know this again. His wonderful wife and son. Another baby on the way. A job he usually loved. He had thought that his life could have been perfect but that it wouldn't be. But he had been wrong.

It would be. It was.

He had his perfect life after all.

And he was never going to let it go.

 _ **The End**_

 **Dear Readers,**

 **Please check out "Reversal of Fortune" under the name woolenslipper for a light-hearted humorous story of our favorite couple that will leave you laughing (hopefully), and "Devious Scheme: An Innocent Woman" for a very interesting different take on our favorite Mountie.**


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